


Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rain was a misery to most, but not to John. Not compared to everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [JWP #2 over on Watson's Woes](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/730725.html), which is a picture. You can find it [here](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/730725.html).  
> Warnings: Relatively plotless. Too many homonyms for falling water. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.

  
  


It was the rainiest spring anyone could remember. It was all anyone could talk about. It was all over the news. The rain, the floods, the overflowing gutters, raging rivers, and underwater motorways – they drowned out all other stories.

John was grateful for that.

The rain washed Sherlock out of the pages of even the most persistent tabloids. The water dissolved any remaining interest reporters had in trying to dog his steps, get a picture, grab a quote. The deluge was all. John was nothing, not even a curiosity. What human interest could be found in John compared to all the flooded-out families?

The onslaught gave him back his anonymity.

He could walk the streets of London, and nobody noticed him. The rain turned him into just another pedestrian, features blurred and unrecognizable. No one saw him, not really.

It was another kind of emptiness in a life already too full of blank void. But it hurt less than the stares, the accusations, the whispers. Indifference was better than blows, or pity.

And maybe, if he walked long enough, got wet enough, the water could wash away some of the pain, as it had washed away so many other things.

“Excuse me.”

John blinked water out of his eyes, startled to realize the woman was talking to him. She was another blurred figure on the sodden streets, raincoat soaked with moisture, darkening it to an indeterminate shade. Her broad umbrella hadn’t been able to keep all the water off, although her hair was relatively dry.

“My cab’s here,” she went on. “And you look like you could use this about as badly as I did, the day someone else handed it to me.”

She held out her umbrella.

John stared, but he could see no recognition on her face, no pity or scorn. There was only wry humor in the face of the rain.

“No, thanks, but I couldn’t - ”

“No, really,” the woman cut him off. “Go ahead and take it; it wasn’t mine to start, and I don’t need it now. You do – and if you don’t, give it to the next person you see who does.”

John felt his lips turn up in a bit of a smile. It felt strange; he hadn’t smiled in longer than he could remember. “No shortage of those in this weather.” Much to his own surprise, he reached out and took the brolly by the handle. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The woman gave him a distracted smile, then darted into the shelter of the waiting cab. Moments later, the cab disappeared from view, fading behind the steady curtain of falling water.

John raised the umbrella over his head and walked on.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 18, 2012


End file.
